Slipping In
by Banana Rum
Summary: If he gets the vagaries down, slipping in is not a task of any immoderate difficulty.' Envy x Winry, Al x Winry


**Slipping In**

For dizzygurl in the May edition of fmaexchange on Livejournal

Predominantly Envy (as Ed) x Winry, though there are allusions to both Ed x Winry and Al x Winry, possibly accidental Envy x Dante. _light_ R

--

The roar of the earth and the beginning of the cosmos as Envy knows it can be rivaled by only one thing: the clamor and the shriek of humankind. A cacophony of colour and smell escape their talismanic lamps as he steps onto the platform, growing up from the shadows of a turnpike and molding flesh from nothing.

He is an exception to what the modern alchemist terms 'Equivalent Exchange'; a remnant of a world that was before, without pre-requisites or constraints. And to those who believe in said law, he is incongruity within the very patterns of life.

The downfall of their sciences.

The downfall of their beliefs.

And ultimately, the downfall of their live_s_.

The woman called 'Dante' is the mother of this taboo, perpetually dancing on the high road, playing God. Yet in doing so, she has become just as much an archaic obscurity as her creation is. There has not been such a worthy challenger since God himself.

"Hohenheim of Light," she says, "fell from his throne when he deserted me." Simple words, for a woman so bent on her own elegance. "But now I hear he has returned to reclaim his sins."

This is what draws Envy up from the shadows, to writhe and squirm amid the flashing and the coursing of raw arrogance.

Pressing ill-formed hands against a nearby wall, he paints on the face of another and slips into the crowd.

--

It is quiet within the train, a world apart from the swarm and bustle of the platform. At this time of day, the heat of the commuting hour, this is a curious thing. Rather, it would have been, had the two not been travelling backwards.

In general, alchemy is the science of taking crude materials and melding them together in order to create a complex, polished pleasure, not the other way around.

No one bends the flow in the other direction. But the Elric brothers have a tendency to twist flows to their favour – at least, that is always the _intent. _So, where others will go forwards and into the city, they will fly in reverse back into the basic, simple countryside.

"Do you think Winry will be waiting for us when be get to Riesenburg, Brother?" A voice calls to his partner from nowhere, resounding within a hollow metal cage.

The reply is tetchy, the speaker's boots kick idly at the wooden panels on the side of the train. "_I_ don't know, Al. Think about it for yourself: does she just wait around all the time or what? She doesn't have psychic powers; she can't know we're coming.

"It doesn't really matter, anyway. We just need to follow that bastard's trail back to his roots; uncover the final details that he's been hiding all this time. We don't have time to waste visiting."

"But… don't you want to see her? It's been a long time since we said goodbye in Rush Valley."

A pause. "Well, yeah… But we can't keep letting sentiment get in the way. Don't you remember what happened in Lab Five? What if those people, those 'homunculus', find out about Winry? What would they do to her?" _What would they, indeed._

Alphonse adopts a matter-of-fact tone. "I guess you're right. But where are we going to stay tonight, then? At this rate, we won't get to Riesenburg until almost sundown. The last train back to Central City will have already left by the time we finish."

Looking only mildly perplexed, Edward turns his attention from his brother to the bypassing scenery. "We'll think of something," He whispers.

But when the two step off into the station, the first place they go is the Rockbell residence – it's tradition, regardless of how many visits they have actually practiced within the last few years. We're only checking in, Edward says, Not staying.

Of course, little is thought of this plan once they see Winry's face. She is not particularly pretty, with grease and oil smudged on her skin, sheen of healthy sweat glistening in the late sunlight, but she was smiling when they came into her workshop, and she smiles even wider when she sees whom her visitors are. Without any other _real_ plan and, Al decided, significantly less to fear than Ed had previously voiced, how could they say no to a warm dinner and a roof over their heads?

"Auntie Pinako is staying with the Andersons tonight, so I hope you don't need to talk to her." Winry informs them over dinner. "There's a vicious bout of some sort of virus going around town, and Mrs. Anderson is pregnant."

Is she doing well?" Al asks, making small conversation. "Sounds like you two have been busy."

Winry grimaces, but there is no real concern behind her expression – not the worry Al had seen many times on her face because of _them_. "That's the problem. The entire Anderson family came down with the virus, including Mrs. Anderson, so we're worried about the baby's health."

"Ah."

The conversation dies for a time, silence and speech switching off with an easy toss of a baton. The quiet is not unwelcome, however. There had been many a night just like this one, with no one talking but the ceiling fan, click-clacking as it makes its turns.

"So, uh, Winry," Edward speaks finally as he swirls his bread around the edges of his plate, catching the remaining sauce and dressing. "Before Pinako left, did she say anything about a visitor? Hohenheim of Light?"

"Your dad? No, I don't think so. Did he say he was coming back here for something?"

Bastard. Edward quivers with a sudden onrush of bitterness, digging his nails into the flesh of his thighs. He's just leading me on, letting me chase his tracks in circles. "Someone told me that was his plan…"

"Oh, so that's why you're here. I thought it was weird for you two to come visit and not have brought something for me to fix." Winry narrows her eyes (how her voice could be so playful yet her expression so convincingly serious, Al will never know), feigning hurt and accusation. "Or maybe you _have_ broken something but you're hiding it from me." She makes as if to reach across the table and examine Edward's automail.

Edward snorts, pulling away slightly. "Why would I do that? Then I'd never get out of here!"

"Then why are you being so defensive? Have you not been doing your maintenance properly?" Winry gets up in earnest (to check on the meatloaf), at the same time slyly attempting to get a clear view of his – or is it really hers? – automail.

Edward finally shoots up. "Why are you being so touchy-feely? I promise I've been taking good care of it! Right, Al?"

"Whatever you say, Brother." Alphonse says, with a movement that the other two have long since decided to interpret as a shrug.

"Thanks. You're a real help, Al." Edward rolls this eyes and turns towards the front door. "I'm going to go check on something now. I don't know how long it will take, so don't stay up too late waiting, okay?"

"But, hey! We're in the middle of dinner! Aren't you hungry, Ed? And it's only eight – the sun's just going down.

"And what do you mean, you don't know how long it will take? It makes it sound like you plan on beginning an _odyssey_ or something." Winry protests.

"Mm, I'm really not that hungry. But it was delicious, really!" Edward tacks on the praise when he sees Winry's inquisitive expression. "_Father_ has some books he wrote during his travels for the Philosopher's Stone; I want to check some things with my notes."

As Edward shuts the door behind him, a current of the sticky dusk wind floods into the room and dances in miasmic tendrils, potency mixing with the fan's swirls and slipping into the regular passage of air.

_Slipping in._

"That's weird. I made sure to prepare an extra large dish, because I figured that Edward would complain about needing _more _food." Winry cuts a square of meatloaf for herself, then another piece, before she covers the dish with a heavy ceramic lid with painted flowers running along the rim. Then she places the extra meatloaf in front of Al.

Even before Al begins to protest, Winry explains. "I know, I know. But it seems weird just serving myself when I have someone to talk to at dinner. It just doesn't seem right."

"Thank you," Al ducks his head, swallowed up in something between utter embarrassment and curious pleasure. But when the moment gradually ebbs away, he finds himself pondering over the business of 'slipping in'.

Is there a way to observe someone, their every movement, and emulate their personality in such away you are able to blend into the crowd with ease? Alphonse has personally tried this many times. But even if he gets the vagaries down, physical appearance is too much to overcome. It isn't every day the average townsperson sees a suit of armour strolling down Main Street. If there were a way to shed the outside skin, however… slipping in would not be a task of any immoderate difficulty.

Which brings Alphonse back to the principle of 'slipping in'.

Edward _can't _have gone to double-check Father's notes. They were burned with the rest of their home and old memories – not something one forgets without effort. Edward's silence, his paranoia, his appetite, his _slip,_ were his and yet not his.

What if those people, those 'homunculus', find out about Winry? Oh no, Alphonse groans inwardly. What did the homunculus with the ability to slip into others' appearance call itself? It is either Lust or Envy, though he isn't sure which – all he knows is that the one with the impressive salivary glands is Gluttony. At the time, he hadn't been all that intent on committing to memory the names of his enemies. 

"Winry." Alphonse voices intensely. "I'm going to go find Brother and make sure he doesn't get into trouble. I'm really sorry for leaving in the middle of dinner like this, but I'll try to drag Brother home before sunrise." He tries to chuckle, fails, and disguises the attempt as the beginning of a song. So he hums as he opens the door, unsure of whether the humming made it more or less conspicuous and not hearing whatever it was Winry said to his back as he leaves.

The younger Elric's footsteps clank and creak on the hard-packed (and still, rut-filled) path as he wanders the community. He feels rather silly, like a small child lost in a train station, following a man who looks like his father, only for the man to turn around and reveal that, of the many different men he may claim to be, the child's father is not one of them. And it probably happened just that way, Alphonse thinks with a tinge of bitterness.

Now he just feels outright _juvenile_. He is the only person in the world who knows Edward's many masks (this is the impression young Alphonse is under, though Edward himself is not even sure how many fractals there are to his own psyche); he is his _brother_. So why, for the love of sanity, could he not notice when the person he spent virtually all day with was not really Edward?

He needs a plan. A plan to get rid of the homunculus, keep Winry safe, and _fast_. But despite Alphonse's constant criticism of Edward's (admittedly, often lacking) plans, there have not been many instances when Alphonse had volunteered to take over that responsibility. For the first time in a long while, Alphonse feels a pang of loneliness magnified to the utmost. He needs Edward here, and he isn't afraid to admit it. He doesn't know what the homunculus is capable of, save shifting form, or what its intentions may be.

The being he is dealing with is of such an awesome, surreal nature, Alphonse is not even sure how to approach the situation. And Winry only complicates things further. If he tries anything, the homunculus might take advantage of Winry – after all, that monster had kept up its disguise for this long, so it must be planning something. He definitely can't tell Winry, Alphonse panics, even though he can't show any outward signs of this emotion. He can't let her worry about things like this; he can't involve her any more than they already have.

_But that's what that monster said_. He feels another pang as he recalls their conversation on the train; how it had not been to Edward he was talking. What if he had let slip valuable information? He tries to remember, before realising that if the shape-shifter has gotten this far masquerading as Brother, he must have been watching the two for a very long time.

--

Fuck, fuck, _fuck._ How could he have been so careless? Of _course_ the brats burned all of the material before they left home. But he had been so caught up in his memories of _that bastard_, he hadn't paid enough attention to the present. The younger brother was probably following him right now. No one could possibly be stupid enough to not catch his slip. _Fuck._

The would-be Edward isn't sure how this affects his plans, once his disappointment is burned away. He had only meant to find Hohenheim here, and possibly fuck with Edward's brother-dearest. His plans hadn't extended much past mayhem and general disarray.

But now, he has found a much more… _human_ toy (so _that_ was the Winry he always hears about)and it makes things that much more interesting. Maybe he will be 'home' sooner than he expected.

Envy looks up from the ground, and finds himself atop a knoll. By now, the sun has fallen and the passage of time is well into the velvet tinge of dusk, coating his surroundings with a heavy, earthy scent.

How fitting for a graveyard.

He kneels down, crawling on hands and knees so that he may peer at the names of the deceased, until he finds Trisha Elric. Perhaps, there is hope yet for slipping in again. He can tell 'Brother' he already had the notes, and that he wanted to read them somewhere else. A poor excuse, but if it is Edward telling the tale, little brother just might take the bait. For now, Envy rests his back against the tombstone, using 'Mother's' resting place as leverage.

What would make Edward hurt the most? He wants to do it the easy way, the direct way. Just take Edwad's own body, and tear his limbs and torso apart, see blood on his hands as he rakes flesh and metal alike with imposing talons. The brat is not Hohenheim, but the hatred Envy bears for that bastard's ('prodigy', 'brilliant', 'gifted') spawn is a close contender.

Unfortunately, physical torture can only go so far, and it is difficult to stir a satisfactory response from the Fullmetal brat, Envy has learned. There are other ways.

The homunculus licks his lips savouring a memory; the waver of Edward's voice as he cries out for Brother in the basement of the military's taboo headquarters, surrounded by crystal tanks of delicious red tincture. Envy isn't interested in the metal body of little brother, though. This 'Winry' girl, Envy is sure, is someone Edward cares for just as deeply; and wouldn't it be _brilliant_ to watch her cringe when she sees Fullmetal again, feel her squirm under his gaze, remembering the night 'they' shared together?

"Brother!"

Envy turns from his morbid fantasies when Alphonse calls his name, ready for a fight if necessary.

"What are you doing out here?" Alphonse betrays no notion of Envy's treachery. Has he _really_ not noticed?

This makes things easier, thinks Envy.

"I'm just… visiting Mom." Envy jerks his head towards the tombstone, lank bangs falling in front of his face.

Alphonse makes a sound in acknowledgement. "Mm. Do you remember the time she first took us to Winry's house?"

Envy says nothing, and doesn't meet Alphonse's eyes.

"We remembered Winry from that one day, when we tried to hike all the way to the edge of town. There were so many fields, and we were thirsty, so she gave us each a glass of water." Alphonse adds.

"That was a long time ago, Al. I don't really…"

Alphonse continues, nonplussed. "And we promised to bring Winry back some pretty flowers as a thanks. But then we had to go home for supper, so we can back home and begged Mom to cut some blooms out of our own garden." Alphonse sits down next to Envy, looking up at the sky.

Smooth hands. Supple stalks. There are silken bursts of colour in his face. Sneezing. Faceless lips push together, and hum an eerie lullaby. Shoes dance around the cobbled path in a lovely roundabout waltz. _Dum dee dum dum dum, dum dee dah… Dum dee dum dum dum, dum dee dah._

Finally, Envy speaks. "She cut some red ones because I told her we needed them _now_. She danced around the garden, and hummed her own orchestra. But then, we had to go to sleep, and by the time morning came around, the flowers were curled and wilted." It is no longer the reminiscing of the Elric brothers, but a memory that should have been forgotten long ago. _Dante, our son is so lively – he'll be able to learn your dance in no time!_

Bastard, bastard. Does Envy remember this, or does he merely remember the story Dante tells so often? It does not matter to _him_, either way. Not anymore.

Alphonse stops when he hears this. But then he tells himself, This is a monster; it has no feelings. "Which one are you – you're not Brother."

"Oh?" Envy looks bemused, before he drops his façade and slips into a dramatic leer, advertising a curved bridge of fangs that is most definitely not Edward's. "Then I suppose you won't get jealous when Winry comes to look for me, and not for you. Knowing that I am not really your brother, I mean. After all, you're fighting _him_ for her sentiments, aren't you?"

"What?" Alphonse jumps, innerved at the ease with which this monster switched from mask to mask. One minute, he almost believed that his _thing_ could be his brother, and now… Well, maybe not. Definitely not.

"You love her."

"No, wait – we're friends. Winry and Brother and I are –"

Envy can feel the blood pounding in his borrowed ears, drums in the distance of a massacre. He brushes up against Alphonse as he stands and whispers, "Don't get jealous of me."

What was his plan? What was his plan? Alphonse's minds races, trying to think of a way to keep the homunculus up here. Things are going too fast; he can't keep up. He grabs what would be (should be) his brother's arm. "Stop!"

Envy jerks out of Alphonse's grasp, cocking his head to one side to that his borrowed locks fall into his eyes once more. "Is a fight what you're looking for? Much _obliged_!" At the last word, he lunged towards the suit of armour, limbs stretching disproportionately as they try to wrap around Al's body.

Al jumps back, sliding backwards in the loose grave soil. A swift kick to his centre brings him down on all fours, tumbling down the hill like the young boy in a vaguely familiar nursery rhyme.

Envy feels that he should do more before making his return to the Rockbell house, but if his victim can't feel his grip and shudder under his touch, it isn't worth the effort.

"Disappointing," he grunts, constricting his limbs back in proportion to Edward's size. "I'm going to make your brother wish _he_ was the one I got a hold of! Then you'll both be sorry, because I'm going to take _everything_ away from you!" He dashes down the path and back up towards the house, making his way into the distance with inhuman speed.

If Gluttony's affinity for his name is any indication, that is definitely Envy, Alphonse thinks morosely, following his 'brother' in hot pursuit, once he picks himself out of the mud.

--

"Winry! I'm back!" Envy calls, grasping the doorframe for support while undoing the buckles on his boots.

Winry calls back from around the house. The homunculus hears a spigot scream in protest and a door slam. "Oh, Ed! I didn't think you'd be back so soon! Did Al find you eventually?"

Envy walks in the direction of her voice and pushes open the workshop door. He is surprised to see Winry dripping wet, pinning her hair into a ringlet bob. A towel is draped across her shoulders, though she already has most of her workclothes on again.

"It was such a warm night, I thought maybe I could just get the shower working, so I wouldn't have to boil any water for the washbasin." Winry explains, busily rearranging some bottles by the sink. Then she repeated her previous question. "Did you meet up with Al?"

"Uh, yeah. We were up at Mom's grave for a while, but he said that he wanted to stay a little longer, so I came back to let you know."

"Hm." She acknowledges, seemingly worlds away. Then she beams at him. "That was considerate of you."

"I guess." Envy shrugs with an air of nonchalance. "I wanted to be alone with you for a little, too."

Winry eyes him quizzically. "Is something wrong?"

"No, no. Nothing like that!" Envy chuckles, in very much the same way he has seen Edward do, when the boy lies to his friends. "Just, you know. Stuff."

Winry shakes her head disbelievingly. "Whatever you say. Let's go on upstairs to someplace more comfortable."

--

Upstairs, the Rockbell home is noticeably less organised, lending motley charm to the atmosphere. Lines blur and boundaries waver; Envy can almost see the wood grain crawling under his touch, a hundred thousand mice streaming in uneven swarms.

"You know, I never thought you would confide in me. It makes me feel really happy." Winry says softly, tucking a stray ringlet behind her ear, but not before it drips a streak of water down her cheek. The mattress gave under her touch, crisp sheets folding in to allow an impression of her hand. Envy is sprawled on the bed behind her in his borrowed face, staring at the contours of the ceiling.

"We've been together for so long, it feels weird saying this." Envy laughs. "I don't know," The homunculus sits up, envisioning crimson blood flowers but keeping his voice soft.

"Go on, you can tell me. You said so yourself – we've known each other forever!"

Blood flowers. Death. Dead. Wilted. Gone. Hush. "I – I think I love you." Envy cringes inwardly, putting his arms around Winry's torso in a jerking, tentative embrace. How the fuck is he supposed to do this? He had meant to stay as in character as possible, not alerting the girl to any differences, but this is ridiculous. He hopes Edward is as smooth in his romantic speech as he is in his death threats. Which is to say, not at all.

Winry's heart skips a beat, and he constricts his embrace. His sticking humid breath on the nape of her neck makes the hairs there prickle. "Ed, I don't think. Wait, what about –" She stops when he relaxes his form on her back, using it as a pillow. "This is so sudden; we've known each other forever. Me and you and Al."

And suddenly Winry isn't sure if she's ready to step across the unspoken rules that have kept the friendship between the three within the bounds of Edward's own rule – Equivalent Exchange. The thrill of the moment mixes with a curious guilt – one she will later contribute towards her faithfulness towards Alphonse, neither a substitute nor in addition to his brother. He is simply, plainly 'Alphonse'.

Meanwhile, Envy is calculating the time he has left before Alphonse finally arrives. Assuming he began to run shortly after Envy did, the homunculus has seven minutes at best. Better make this quick. "What's wrong?"

Winry covers her face with her hands. "This just doesn't seem right. It's always been the three of us together."

"And you feel like we're leaving him out?"

Winry curls inward under his weight. "Kind of, but not in that way. That makes it sound too elementary." She was scared. She was afraid that Alphonse was going to walk in and feel as if there was some random, elaborate secret they'd been keeping from him all this time. Afraid that if she walked forward, things would change forever and she wouldn't be able to fall back in the other direction.

Although alchemy is not in her thread of interests, she has a good idea of the basic principles that are applied to the science. Once you have combined two materials to make a _chimera_, a successful transmutation does not leave room for genetic 'de-evolution'.

You can negate the effects of a transmutation as well as you can turn back the hands of a clock and relive lost hours.

Envy kisses the girl's shoulder, tasting her still-moist skin. His cat's tongue rubs against her flesh like sandpaper, and he almost bites down before he remembers he is trying to behave like Edward would. Red flowers. Wilted, dying. Singing. Silence.

A likely operation this will be, Envy muses darkly, How am I supposed to know how the brat acts outside of battle?

So Envy does the one thing any rational being would do. He gives up.

"Come on, Al's not here. He'll never know, if that's what you're worried about. I – we'll be done by the time he gets back." Envy hushes Winry's feeble protest by covering her mouth with his flesh hand. The other's dexterous fingers seek zippers and ties to pull. Then, he releases Winry's mouth and drops the flesh hand down.

The girl's breasts are supple, though very plain and not worth exhibiting. Dante has nothing to be jealous of _here_, Envy smirks, thinking that later that night he could try out Winry's body in place of Edward's.

He draws his nails against her torso, livid streaks gracing the pale flesh but not breaking skin. Her grip on the mattress tightens, and she bites back the urge to shudder.

"Please…"

The citrine glint in Envy's eyes roared at her like a feral cat, tarnishing the deep amber with vicious flashes. _Do you want this? Eh, eh? Or sex, is that what you want?_

"I'm going to make you wish you never met Edward Elric. Never given him any fucking automail, never even seen what happens to the father of a failed human trasmutation." Envy voices words between spasms; he's gripping her shoulders harder than ever, fresh blue finger marks springing up on her shoulders and collarbone.

"Because then you never would have known monsters like me existed! You never would have met _me_."

_There were things that called themselves 'homunculus'. One of them can change its shape, capable of emulating anyone._

"You're… not Edward, are you?" One half of her pleads that he is, and that he will move away from her and tell her that he was kidding, he was sorry. But the larger half begs God that he is not Edward – he may piss her off and make her cry, but he would never touch her.

For a split second, out of nowhere the realisation that Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist, is _more _than capable of killing a man dawns on her, and chills her to a core that even Envy's advances cannot touch. Suddenly, she feels as if the hands he had reached for all these years were slipping from her grasp entirely.

Envy chuckles, a dry, hard rasp, albeit one that has been dipped in the caramel syrup of one attempting to please. "That's exactly what 'little brother' said when he found out."

"What did you do to Alphonse?"

"Would you believe me if I said 'nothing'? No, of course not." Envy sneers, stroking her pretty throat with one hand as the other slams down hard, tracing her ribs (so fragile) and pelvis. He will not make her bleed red flowers, but he can make wilted purple bruise blooms sprout.

Winry tries to curl into a fetal position, but Envy stops her squirming and spreads his legs apart to pin down her arms.

"Al! Alphonse!"

Alphonse finally reaches the door downstairs, just in time to hear Winry scream his name. "Win – !" Alphonse gasps, admonishing himself for being stupid enough to make a noise. If Envy doesn't know he is here, it will make it that much easier to set up his plan. It is in its incubation phase at best, but every moment he wastes trying to think of something new is a moment Envy is left to his own devices.

Creeping up the stairwell, the younger Elric brother pauses in front of the bedroom, hears biting laughter and an answering gasp. There has never been a time where Alphonse wanted to close his eyes and ears more than he does now.

And yet, that is impossible. Alphonse must grin and bear it, forever without reprieve. Without a solid plan and with complete disregard for any consequences, save the desperately immediate ones, he draws out a stub of chalk – a line here, fragments of symbollerum there…

With an expert's flourish, vines of oak wood animate the floor, weaned from the floorboards in a sizzling alchemic flash. They are pouncing towards Envy's sprawled form just as Alphonse opens the door, a draft of stale air rushing in behind him.

"Let her go!"

Damn, he's here already. I was just getting started. Envy doesn't skip a beat, licking his lips with the taste of a challenge. "What, can't stand it because your big brother wants to fuck your girl?" The homunculus allows the vines to twine around his limbs, locking him into place as Alphonse advances. Brushing Winry's eyes and mouth with loose strands of golden hair, he hisses. "Edward Elric can't be all holy.

"Don't say that! My brother isn't – and Winry's not – She's not mine, but she's not yours either, Envy." Alphonse speaks with hushed intensity, regaining his faltering composure.

"You're right – she's not! But it's not _her _I want. I leave the wanting to Lust and Greed. I just can't have you two 'having' if I can't."

Al drops into a beginning stance, ready to lunge out as soon as Envy extracts himself from the oak bindings.

Envy spits. "So you really do want a fight. You're just like your brother. Just slip into line, follow big brother everywhere! You're just an add-on. A discard without a place." Easy as water through sand, Envy slips from the bed and onto the windowsill, a dazzle of warped alchemic energy. "I suppose I'll be seeing more of you soon, though. If I finish the both of you off now, I'll have nothing to hold onto when I find that bastard's (first, best, living) _real_ son!" With a twisted backwards glance, the homunculus falls back and downward, hitting the ground running.

Brief silence followed the homunculus' unexpected departure, graced with none of the easy solace that the quiet of their earlier dinner held.

At last, Al clambered towards the bed, breaking the trance. "Did he touch you? Did he hurt you?"

Winry slips onto the floor from the bed, top hanging loose and disheveled. She shakes her head rapidly, arms coming up to cover her ears. She tries to speak, but the eloquence of her words are lost in a series of rapid, shallow breaths.

Alphonse grabs the worm of a towel from the bedspread and drapes it across Winry's lap. She takes it gratefully and smothers her face, saying something Alphonse thinks sounds something like, "Oh God, oh God, oh God…"

It does not take long for Al to connect the night's happenings back to himself. He can't blame Envy for anything – it's his fault for not noticing sooner, for not keeping Winry safe. And even now, he had failed to help her. He had tried, but if Envy had not made his own conscious decision to make haste, Alphonse would not have kept him from roaming free to do as he pleased.

"I'm – I'm so sorry." Alphonse kneels down next to her, putting a reassuring glove on her thigh. "I couldn't be here on time. I," Though Winry shakes her head 'no' again, the apprehensive flutter he feels at the side of his attentions heightens tenfold. She leans against his cold body, nestling her head on his elbow plate.

"I'm sorry." Even in the warm night, the moon's gaze seems cold to Alphonse, and Winry is shivering, covered in a wet towel and relying on vacant armour to lend her warmth.

"I'm sorry."

"Al." Winry is shivering violently, this time not just because of the cold. "That was, a homunculus, wasn't it? But if he wasn't Edward, then… Where is Ed?"

_Oh_ no. He had been so concentrated on doing things without Brother, on getting Winry away and focusing on Brother's absence, he had not stopped to consider that Edward's absence may not have been a purely temporary fix. If Brother was free somewhere, then why hadn't he come the second he got separated from me?

Winry takes a deep breath, whimpering as her bruised diaphragm contracts. "Where were you two staying before you came here? Like, a hotel somewhere or was it the HQ barracks in Central?"

"Uh…" Alphonse is caught off guard by the sudden calm that has settled about the room, but the reserved nature is catching and soon Al's mood placates in turn. "A small inn near the train station in Central." When he sees Winry's questing stare, he adds, "Ed didn't want to have to put up with the Colonel just yet, since we were only going to stay for the night. Then we came here." Had he been with Brother then, or had it been Envy all along? Serpents of doubt slither into Al's mind, threatening to overtake reason like a cancerous invasion.

"Okay. I'm going to go call the inn, and see if Ed is there. You wait here." Winry got up, striding towards the door with a slight limp.

Once within the confines of her workroom, was another story altogether. The lines of city contacts blur beneath her tears, her fingers quivering as they quest for the inn closest to Central Station.

"Hello?" A few more deep breaths. She's going to break, shatter like glass.

There is a merry giggle on the other end, and something that sounds like the discouragement of an advance. "Oh, oh! Come of it, now. Yes? May I help you?"

Deep breath. "Can you tell me," her voice hitches in the back of her throat. Another deep breath. "Is someone named Edward Elric is staying here?"

"What, what? I can't hear you, m'dear. Speak up!"

"Oh God… Can you tell me…"

"She wants me to tell her something, shut up Dorren! I'm trying to listen to a customer!" Despite her words, it is clear to Winry, at least, that the maid on the other end would much rather be playing with 'Dorren' than assisting her.

"Is. Edward Elric. Staying. Here?"

"Mr. Elric?"

Yes! Winry wants to shriek. Yes!

"Hm, no… He checked out this morning. Sorry about that!"

Winry's voice collapses before her body follows suit. The whisper of a fear. "Did he come ba –"

"Eh, Miss? I think she hung up on me, Dorren! Imagine – the nerve!"

Fuck you, thinks Winry.

"Al? Al! Winry! Are you here?" Edward's strained voice sounds in her ears, eclipsing the slamming of the front door in familiarity.

"Winry! What's wrong? Why are you…" A gloved hand reaches for her arm, and she cringes on reflex. She doesn't see the hurt etched into Edward's features as she backs into something large and cool. Al is behind her, gripping her shoulders protectively. The vale of tears she had stopped from flowing break their dams, and all the internal fears she had never voiced and painful realisations she suffered that night come out in muffled, racking sobs.

Edward gapes in surprise, before turning up to Al's faceplate. "I got on the soonest train that would leave for Riesenburg. I saw you getting on that train, and tried to follow you, but all these people just pushed me back!" He laughes nervously, before return to his somber disposition.

"Tell me what happened. Is it something I did?" The young man's brow furrows, and he slowly reaches out a tentative gloved hand towards Winry once more.

Winry only cries harder. This night will be their secret, Alphonse decides, and for the second time that evening, he veils the truth in order to protect his loved ones.

At the same time he knows that just hiding the truth won't keep it from slipping in.

_fin_


End file.
